Wishing Further
by Shu of the Wind
Summary: Drabble dump for LingFan. 001: Wordplay. "How many times do I have to tell you you're beautiful until you believe me?" T for James Bond level stuff.


Rated: T/T+. Implied (but no explicit) sexytimes. Just some makeouts. And lots of touching.

* * *

"You're so stunning."

Lan Fan went very still. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Emperor lying on his side, watching her. She'd been wiping her arm down with water, clearing out dust and dirt from the day, and he was watching her the way he always did. He was fascinated with her automail; he liked to take her hand and turn it palm up, studying the way the joints worked as he thought. She'd stolen the sheets, and he still had the blankets, but he'd kicked most of them off by now. Sudden, fierce desire hit her in the gut. He was so _beautiful_, lean and supple and scarred and _Ling_, and it would be just like him to be both completely aware of it and completely oblivious to the effect it would have on her. She swallowed hard, and then looked down at her wrist again. There was a crust of muck between two of her wrist joints.

"This one is not worthy of your consideration, majesty," she said, but she slanted a look at him to let him know she was joking. She hadn't joked with him since before Amestris. His lips quirked up.

"Lan Fan, I consider you daily. Hourly. Even more often than that if I can get away with it. You deserve to know it." He pushed himself up on his elbow, reached forward with his free hand, and tugged at the edge of her sheet, pulling one end off of her bare shoulder. Lan Fan squeaked, and caught it. "You're beautiful. You're _so _gorgeous right now."

She was pink, she was sure. "I'm—I'm covered in dust and blood—"

"Mm, sexy."

She wanted to smack him with a pillow. As it was, she turned her face away before she completely embarrassed herself. "_Majesty_—!"

"Hey, hey." She heard rustling behind her. Then there was a warm touch on her shoulder, the one with her automail, and the Emperor slid an arm around her collarbone, pressing his lips to her neck. "How many times do I have to tell you before it stops embarrassing you? Because I will keep saying it again—" He kissed her again, higher up her throat this time. "—and again—" The soft spot of skin, just behind her earlobe. "—and _again—_" He swept the hair off the back of her neck and put his lips there too, and she felt her whole body jerk. "—until you believe me."

Lan Fan shuddered, and he smiled against her skin. Ling kissed her neck again. "You're beautiful."

"No, I'm not."

There was a soft wet touch against her skin. Another kiss, open-mouthed this time. His tongue flicked out, and Lan fan jerked in her chair. He whispered: "You're beautiful."

"I'm not," she said, and the rag slipped through her fingers. She turned in the circle of his arm and left the chair, her hands, one human and dry, one metal and wet, brushing against the skin of his chest. She felt him hiss at the touch of her cold fingers. She stood on her own two feet, her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not beautiful."

He was smiling. Ling leaned forward, brushed his mouth against one of her ribs, where there was a scar from the first time she'd saved his life, in a brush with the Xie. "I'll start using synonyms soon."

"Please don't." It came out as a gasp. She was nearly laughing, even if she couldn't quite believe him.

His hands left her skin. Lan Fan almost snarled. But it was only to tug the sheet away. It pooled around her feet, and Ling put his hands on her hips, fingers digging into her skin, pulling her forward until she was straddling his lap. He kissed the pulse point in her throat. "You're stunning," he said, and then he touched his tongue to her pulse and she let out a breath, but he'd already moved, mouthing a line up her throat, to her jaw, to her cheek. "Striking," he added, and brushed his lips over her cheekbone.

Her eyebrow was exquisite. Her temple lovely. He kissed her eyelids and called them handsome; he ran his lips over the curve of her ear and called her dazzling. She pushed his shoulders, leaning forward into him, but he didn't fall back just yet. He kissed her lips and called them flawless, and it was only when she barely remembered what had started all this that he pulled back, cupped her face in his hands, and said, "Lan Fan, you're _perfect_, and I love you for it—" that she forgot anything else at all.


End file.
